


who wants eternity (if you’re spending it alone)

by dappledleaves



Series: alternate universes [5]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (but not quite), Alternate Universe - Space, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Death, Character Study, Fate, Friendship, Gen, Loss of Humanity, No Dialogue, Space Fish - Freeform, Stardust - Freeform, Transformation, Wilbur makes a space friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27532522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dappledleaves/pseuds/dappledleaves
Summary: Wilbur is human, until he isn’t.(In which it is hard to remember who you are when there’s stardust settling in your bones.)
Relationships: Eret & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: alternate universes [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013103
Comments: 37
Kudos: 141





	1. veins

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this au came from. But I already love it dearly. I do have quite a few other wips, but I will try to update this whenever I can! 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy, and if you could spare some time to leave a comment I would appreciate it immensely. 
> 
> This fic is based on the characters in the Dream SMP, not the content creators, please respect them!

Wilbur isn’t sure exactly when the change began. Perhaps it was a gradual thing. Perhaps it’s still happening now. 

All he knows is that one day he’s merely drifting through space - and another day he feels like he’s part of it. Like he’s more than he was before. With each day that passes, there is more stardust in his veins, purple and yellow and amber replacing the red of his blood. It’s fascinating to watch, honestly, even if it does scare him. 

It doesn’t hurt. That’s another thing he’s noticed. Space is slowly embracing him, making him it’s own, and it doesn’t hurt.

It hurt, when the final rocket left without him. It hurt, feeling his planet die beneath his feet. It hurt to somehow, _somehow,_ survive after everything else was gone. But space never hurts him. It holds him in it’s hands, so gently, that he doesn’t even mind now that it’s closing it’s fist.

(He tries not to think about the fact that day by day, his fear fades a little bit too.)

Hair, taking on a golden glow. Skin, beginning to shimmer. His old, worn spacesuit, morphing from white-grey material into robes of amber and ruby; they bundle him up and Wilbur thinks that if he could still feel the cold, this would surely make him warm again. He carries goggles with him, a memento he’s saved - but they change too, into a crown of gold: a weightless thing nestled into his hair that he could almost forget about, if not for the sparkling stars that are set in it. Actual stars that shine brightly, and he believes that it means something, the fact that they could burn him up but never do. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


It never occurs to him, really, that he’s not the only one. He should have expected it - space is infinite, after all. He can’t expect that he’s the only one floating around, the only one space has saved. He’s more surprised though, that with how infinite space is, they manage to cross paths at all. It starts when he sees something, gleaming, dancing at the edge of his vision. He begins to glide towards it with only a thought - and he doesn’t think too hard about how every day, space can predict his wants with more and more ease. (He also doesn’t dwell on the fact that even here, where he is outliving his sun and his moon, he still recalls if it is day or night.) 

It’s only when he gets closer that he realises it’s a person like him. _Wrong,_ space tells him, kindly, like a parent correcting a child. _They are not a person anymore._

He’s nudged closer in their direction, the great expanse of space encouraging him. _Their name was Eret, once. Go and introduce yourself._

Wilbur gets the feeling that he doesn’t really need to; he thinks that if the being in front of him really wanted to know his name, the universe could tell them. But he introduces himself all the same, because space told him to with a feeling, humming under his skin, and that is enough. His first realisation (as Eret bows their head to him in greeting, a crown of silver resting on their head) is that they’ve changed a lot more than he has. It’s difficult to tell where the human ends, and the stardust begins. Eyes of white stare indifferently at him, and it’s the first experience he’s having of something that isn’t kind and gentle and understanding since this all began - which is oddly refreshing, in a way. Wilbur holds out his hand, and Eret takes it ---

(Energy. Overwhelming. They are more of a vessel than a person, filled with potential and warmth, dust and light, with nowhere to go.) 

\--- Wilbur quickly lets go. Is this his fate? Is this what he will become? 

Is he afraid?

  
  
  
  
  
  


He’s hesitant to leave the first person he’s found, despite how unwary he feels. And he knows that space insists Eret isn’t a person anymore - they’re more than that now - but he does not have any words that could even begin to describe what they are. There are no words for that kind of power, that kind of star that is yet to be born. He is out of his depth and while the universe promises that will change - as he continues to breathe stardust into his lungs, he is not quite there yet. 

Eret almost looks amused, almost smiles, when he calls them by the name they used to live by. (Wilbur gets the feeling that they have forgotten things like humour, and smiling - but he supposes that is the price to pay when you become part of space.)

He wonders many things about this being in robes of silver and white - and the universe gives him the answers he seeks. He is it’s child, after all. It tells him he has so much to learn, and he imagines a hand ruffling his hair fondly. 

He is loved. How long does he have until the concept of love no longer matters to him anymore?

  
  
  
  
  
  


Together they watch the destruction of a planet. The concept of sadness is not so foreign to him yet, and he is reminded of the planet he used to love (but he no longer remembers its name.) Eret wipes Wilbur’s tears away, now frozen gems immortalised in space, and holds them in their palm for one moment, two. Wilbur wonders if they recognise them, if they recall what it means to cry. 

He asks them if space will save anybody from this planet. After a moment of consideration, they say no - because there is nobody left to save. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Of all the different kinds of planets they witness, the ones with the oceans are his favourite. The universe must be able to tell, because when he and Eret are guided into the lull of sleep, Wilbur can hear the sounds of the sea. The call of the birds. Waves, crashing against stone. 

He wonders what Eret dreams about, if they even dream at all.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Eret tells him that they do not have much time left. He’s sure their different expressions contrast greatly: his surprise paired with their eternal indifference. 

They hold out their hand to him, and he’s greeted once again with the energy just under their skin, the stardust that rises to meet him in recognition. Infinite power in a finite vessel. Space loves them both dearly, but it cannot save them forever. The very thing that keeps them alive, that turns them into something greater, is also what will destroy them one day. 

Eret tells Wilbur not to worry. The process takes many a millennia. Wilbur will get to witness the rise and fall of great civilisations. He will have planets, gods, cities, all named after him. He will experience all the wonders the universe have to offer - all before his time is up.

Is it selfish of him, to wish that his time would never end? Is it kind, to want Eret to stay alive too? (Or does he just not want to be alone?) 

_Not alone,_ he is reminded. _Never alone, never abandoned. Never again._

But Eret leaving him so soon after their meeting feels like abandonment, and he doesn’t want to accept it. 

Surely, with all this stardust in his veins, there is something Wilbur can do. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forever gonna be in love with the idea of space beings with stardust in their blood.
> 
> I am a dragon who hoards comments and loves them dearly, so please lemme know what you think! Oh, and if there are any tags you think I’ve missed, please do not hesitate to let me know, I am more than happy to add them.
> 
> I listened to ‘for misha’ by nicholas podany MANY times while writing this. such a pretty song.
> 
> Hope you all have a nice day/night and stay safe :))


	2. lungs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur tries to fight fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so i'm updating this much sooner than i thought i would. i've just become attached to this concept, i had to do more.
> 
> i hope you enjoy! so many of you have been so kind and supportive! 
> 
> as always, this is based on the characters that the content creators play, not the creators themselves. please respect them!

A black hole, consuming. 

Wilbur, immune to the pull of the dying star, but not quite yet immune to the sadness brought by watching planets crumble, like fragile sandcastles - a child’s forgotten creation on a beach. 

Eret, unemotional as ever, and Wilbur finds that in moments like these he can appreciate the fact that they do not change. The rest of the time he gets wrapped up in wistful longing, to know who Eret was before space found them. He wants to hear them laugh, wants to know what they find funny. Eret is Wilbur’s friend - but he wishes he could be Eret’s friend back.

He wonders if space is saddened, watching it’s creations die. Perhaps that is why it tries so hard to keep those like Eret and him safe, for as long as it can. Perhaps it is in denial about the fact that one day: they will disappear just like these planets, no matter how hard it tries.

  
  
  
  
Eret tells Wilbur that they used to dream of a moon. They cannot remember if it was the moon from their planet - or if they even lived on a planet at all. Wilbur drifts around him, warm and comfortable and happy to listen about the moon in Eret’s dreams: unfathomably large, hiding everything in its shadow. Chilly and distant, but familiar in some comforting kind of way, and Wilbur cannot remember what the moon by his planet even looked like, so he listens to every detail enthralled. 

...Has he ever had a moon? Or a planet? Wilbur cannot recall. All he remembers - all he’s ever known - is this: the quiet expanse of space, the gentle guidance offered from parent to child, the warm colours of his robes, and the being beside him. Eret is all he has, a comforting voice to distract him from the silence, and Wilbur _knows_ this, so why - 

A book (an album), of people (of family) pushes its way into his head, ruining the peace and tranquility of Eret’s story. He’s cross, for a moment, because what right does this image in his mind have to interrupt? He does not know these people - but he can tell they are not like him. They do not have the universe to grant them power. They do not have shimmering skin, or lungs that never need air. They don’t even have crowns of metal adorning their heads (except for one - who wears a crown of gold atop rosey pink hair - but Wilbur can sense that it is not the same as his. It can never be the same.)

All of the pictures spill through his thoughts, messy and disorganised, pushing against the hazy fog in his mind which Wilbur’s only now noticing is there - and then, suddenly, it’s like a dam is breaking ---

(Working on the family farm, the sky blue and the sea bluer. Sharing a bunk bed with Tommy, and knocking on the wall shared with Techno’s room. Suits for school dances, fires crackling in sleepy evenings, Phil reading him stories about the stars when he was young, and thinking this is the happiest he’ll ever be.

Arguments over possessions - minemine _mine._ Learning, growing, sharing. Making a cardboard crown to match his brother’s, and when Wilbur grows up he wants to be strong - respected - just like him.

Guitars as birthday presents. Bruises, plasters, comfort. Overwhelming schedules made simpler with familial support.)

\--- and he _remembers._

His brothers. His dad. Wilbur’s memory of them is almost slipping out of his grasp.

He does not know if they managed to get onto one of the rockets. He hopes with all he has that they did. Eret has stopped talking, sensing that Wilbur’s no longer listening, and his white eyes blink, a hint of a question visible in them (or is Wilbur just seeing what he wants to see?) The words tumble out of him, telling every story about his family he can remember, terrified of them fading again. He mumbles their names over and over; he says them so many times that they almost become meaningless, like some confusing secret code. 

Almost, but not quite. He can’t let himself forget again, no matter what space thinks is best. Wilbur privately thinks that here, space does _not_ know best.

  
  
  
  
  


Waking up, he knows something has changed. He feels like a piece of silver-wear that's just been polished, and looking down at his hands he can see why. The scar on the back of his hand, the one he's had since he was seven, is gone, smoothed over like it was never there at all. His eyesight feels sharper, his sense of smell more keen. 

If the universe is trying to convince him that this fate has it's perks, he doesn't care. He tells it, softly, that he doesn't want this. There's no need to be rude - it's done nothing but try and help him, nothing but offer care. It's not it's fault if he isn't interested in living for centuries alone.

Then, suddenly: something new. Something Wilbur hasn’t seen before.

A school of multicoloured fish, shimmering just like them, approaches from the distance. It seems that the universe tries to save more than just people, then. The fish are unafraid, changing course so that they cross paths - and when they brush against Wilbur’s outstretched palms tiny jolts of electricity run up his arm, waking the energy inside his bones until all he can feel is power.

He can’t stop grinning, more so because Eret looks happy at the sight of the fish too - but it’s bittersweet. This power is going to kill them both, no matter how gently the end may come.

The fish are swimming away now, and the two of them are left in the darkness of space again.

He hums the tune to songs where the words are long gone from his mind. It's pleasantly surprising when Eret joins in - they have a nice voice. Wilbur voices his thoughts: perhaps if they'd lead different lives, they could have been singers. He can make songs about the oceans, and Eret can do ones about the moons.

He doesn't mention it again after a few hours later, when his humming stops. Another breath of stardust, and he's forgotten the tunes too.

Please, he asks Eret. Please don't leave him.

If they recognise his sorrow, they do not acknowledge it.

Wilbur is afraid to sleep now. By this point, Eret will forget him if they aren't face to face, and even drifting into a rest for a few short minutes could mean Eret leaving him behind. He makes a routine, with him saying Eret's name every few minutes, and waiting until Eret says his name back.

Sometimes, they don’t, and Wilbur has to introduce himself over and over again, shaking their hand and sensing the energy that wants to escape. 

Then they'll keep travelling with no idea of a destination, like they always do. Wilbur never leaves their side - and when he can't go on, and space is murmuring that he's doing so well, but he has to try and sleep now, he won't let himself rest until he's certain he's got a firm grip on Eret's hand.

He knows it’s the end when Eret starts to look… almost fuzzy, around the edges. Switching between blurriness and sharp focus, even when Wilbur grabs onto the front of their robes to try and keep them stable. He begs for more time, Eret doesn’t deserve this - and Wilbur is overcome with the apologies and regret of the universe. It has given them all the time it can, but their body can no longer hold onto it’s human form. 

All their humanity has been cast aside now, forgotten about in favour of the dust. The dust, which will end their human lives first to make them something more - and end this new life second, once there is nothing human in them left to save. 

Wilbur knows he’s gotten more life thanks to space, he’s thankful for this friend that promises never to give up on him. But it’s not fair. It’s mercy, but it's the painful kind - being granted temporary immortality and having to spend it wondering when his time will be up. How many generations of people will he see come and go? How many new discoveries will be named in honour of him? When he’s finally gone, will he be remembered?

He doesn’t want all of that. Space is so vast, that even with all this power he can never find his family. That is - if they’re even still alive. Wilbur by now has lost track of the days. He doesn’t know how long he and Eret have drifted through galaxies together - and he’s not looking forward to drifting through more alone.

He cries out - because Eret is fracturing, and they don’t even seem to notice. Stardust is spilling out of them: silver, white and green surrounding them like a cloud - but they’re only looking at him. A ghost of concern flashes across their face, a recollection of an emotion they used to know.

They ask him: please do not be sad. And Wilbur wants to give them this, before they split apart to make new constellations, or drift away as stardust to save somebody else. But he doesn’t know how not to be sad; he doesn’t want Eret to save anyone else. He wants them to stay.

He takes what still remains of Eret’s hand, holding it tight. The energy inside them pulses sadly - the dust inside of Eret has more emotion left than they do - rising to meet him so gently that Wilbur thinks it must remember him. Stardust continues to cascade out of Eret, picking up speed now, spiraling around Wilbur like it wants to keep him safe. A glimmer of green ruffles his hair, a flicker of white brushes past his shoulder, and he wants to cry.

Then, then, then Eret is gone, and Wilbur is alone. Only their crown remains, a creation of silver and loss. 

_Not alone -_

Wilbur screams, telling the universe to _shut up._ He’s angry, he’s upset, and it feels good just to feel again, but he just wants some peace and quiet. Just for a moment. He needs a moment. Time feels almost nonexistent in space, surely it can spare him a second or two.

Wilbur wipes away his own tears, pushing the frozen gems aside. Space may hold him and tell him it’s all going to be alright, but he doesn’t want this. He imagines fracturing: slowly shattering like a mirror into tiny, unfixable pieces - and he can’t. He _won’t._ Eret was happy to let themselves fade away. Wilbur can’t say the same. Surely that counts for something? 

He scoops up some of the dust still surrounding him, and it sticks to his hands. He wishes he could turn back the time. He tells the vast emptiness of space: he is going to save them - and the emptiness must hear him because the dust is collecting itself together, pouring itself into a small pouch sewed together with starlight and inky black cloth to match the neverending horizon.

 _If that is what you want_ , he is told. _Then let us try._

Wilbur bows his head to the nothingness in thanks, and he hardly cares when his golden crown slips from his hair. Space carries it away, the shining stars attached to it growing dimmer by the second’ Wilbur turns away so he does not have to see them go out. He reaches for Eret’s crown: less silver and more green with all of the dust that hovers around it. It fits, when he sets it on his head, and he breathes in deep (adding to the stardust in his lungs.) 

It tastes like fire and familiarity, and Wilbur is going to change his fate.

Another breath. Another. The stardust is nothing but ash and soot (and it will never burn him.)

Eret's crown is heavier than his. Wilbur keeps thinking that, over and over. He's not sure how else he can make sure that he won't forget them. His pouch of their stardust, in comparison, barely weighs anything at all. Wilbur can't help but think that it means there's nothing left of Eret at all, and - no. He isn't going to accept that. He's promised that he's going to save them both, and the power that has settled deep into his bones makes him feel capable of keeping said promise.

Phil. Techno. Tommy. He keeps saying their names too.

It seems that only when he's losing his humanity, his memory - does he realise how much there is, that he never wants to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so we’ve come to the end. 
> 
> whether or not wilbur is successful in avoiding the same fate as eret, or if he manages to bring eret back - I guess that can be up to the reader.
> 
> if you think i've missed any tags, please let me know!
> 
> please leave me a comment with your thoughts, they really help me thrive and i'd appreciate it greatly!
> 
> as always i hope you all stay safe and have a good sunday! :D


End file.
